Serleina van Rainsfeld and the Skin of a Killer
by littlen00bgyn
Summary: Chopsticks High doesn't know what's hit it when psychotic Serleina comes to town! Just how well will she fit in, and will she ever reconcile her differences with the Cullen family?
1. Prologue

**SERLEINA VAN RAINSFELD AND THE SKIN OF A KILLER**

PREFACE- HAHA, I MEAN, PROLOGUE!

Thinking about dying is GREAT! I do it ALL THE TIME! I'm not sure how this particular death fantasy turned out so... stupid... but bear with me as I recount this tale.

I was having a staring contest with some guy. Usually I win those, but he had an intense stare, like a stalker or something. That's obvious: He was definitely a stalker. And not the good kind.

If I'd never gone to Chopsticks, I probably would have remained the Staring Contest Champion of my own little world, but it's not like there was much to regret. After all, it's possible that this was all just a dream.

I screamed out my favorite battle cry and charged my opponent as he sauntered forward to kill me.

Nice try, loser.


	2. Chapter 1

1\. I SEE WEIRD PEOPLE

Mama ran with me to the airport. A car would have been faster, but where's the fun in that? Despite the eighty-five degree heat of Phoenix, I found the run refreshing. It's important to stay strong and in good shape despite oppressive heat and other unpleasant weather conditions. The sky was probably a clear blue, just as it always was south of Flagstaff. All my worldly possessions were in two duffel bags, one slung over each shoulder, the straps of each crossing each other.

I was going north, to a town called Chopsticks. It's pretty cloudy there and it rains a lot, which suits me just fine because I like running in the rain. Mama used to live there, but I guess she just preferred dry heat, because she and I had lived in Phoenix since about six months after my birth. I came to visit during school vacations: Since my parents didn't have joint custody of me, it felt unfair to stay with Mama all the time when Papa had every right to see his daughter once in a while, too. He offered to take me to Disneyland a few times, and I'll admit the offer was tempting- all those small children, such perfect little sacrifices!- but I couldn't ask him to spend that kind of money on me.

As I said, I was moving to Chopsticks. Now that Mama had deemed me old enough to choose where I wanted to live, I thought it would be best for me to move in with Papa and make up for lost time, at least until I could afford to get a place of my own. Phoenix was pretty nice. I liked the bridge art, the palm trees, the fact that nearly every apartment in our area had a pool, and the summer monsoons. But I liked the idea of Chopsticks even better. Sure, it would probably make me soft to consistently run in comfortably cool weather, but it would only be for a few years, at most. What could be the harm in that?

"Just remember, Serleina, you're welcome to come back any time," Mama reminded me with a hug after we'd reached the building and caught our breath. She'd said this a few times already, but it was nice to know that she still wanted me around after all the problems I'd caused at my old school. Apparently leaving dead kittens on people's doorsteps is not an appropriate way to express affection, but whatever.

I looked into Mama's cobalt blue eyes, which are just like mine, searching for any signs of regret. I'm not good at reading people, but I have to say that I didn't see anything like that. I took a last, long look at her face. It was a face I'd undoubtedly see in every mirror if I lived twenty more years. We had the same wide forehead, slight widow's peak, narrow chin, and high cheekbones; the same almond-shaped, cobalt blue eyes; the same auburn hair, though hers was shorter. Her face showed evidence of the full and happy life she'd lived so far, with laugh lines and a crow's feet. It was a face I very much admired, in part because of its owner's lack of vanity. Mama absolutely refused to use "beauty" products of any kind, insisting that true beauty came from living life to its very fullest rather than from any overpriced bottle. She could definitely be flighty, but I would miss her earthy wisdom. We didn't always agree, but she _got_ me.

Of course, she had a boyfriend or something to take care of now. Were they married yet? I couldn't remember. It's not that I didn't care- it's just that she's had so many friends and lovers come into and go out of our lives that I stopped keeping track, no matter how unique each person was. Well, her bevy of buddies could keep her company while I was gone. I just hoped that they appreciated the effort she put into keeping a warm, inviting, welcoming household, even if it did sometimes resemble a den, and that they were polite enough to at least try her more "interesting" on-the-fly recipes.

"I'll come back to visit, and we can talk on the phone every day if you want," I reassured her. It was a promise I wanted to keep; I'd never had any interest in lying to my mother. She showed negative emotions like disappointment so rarely that it was heartbreaking to see them on her face, and it would have made me feel terrible to be the cause of anything like that. I may have my quirks, but despite all rumors to the contrary, I also have a conscience, at least, when it comes to people I like.

"Give my love to your Papa," Mama said earnestly, as I bought my ticket. I had to smile. Their marriage may not have worked out, but they were so much more amiable than the parents of some of my former classmates.

"I always do," I said, smiling back at her. She was one of the rare people who got to see me smile when I wasn't thinking dark thoughts.

As I approached the security checkpoint, Mama tried to offer to come up and see me every month, but I shook my head. "No, I couldn't ask you to leave your party circuit for me. You've taken care of me all my life, and now it's time for you to have some fun. I'll be fine." I nodded as if to finalize my thoughts, and gave her one last hug before unloading my duffel bags and going through the metal detector. Thankfully, I'd remembered that daggers were not an acceptable carryon item, and it didn't go off like it had last time I'd gone to see Papa.

As always, it was a long wait till I could actually get on my plane. My friend Penryn had given me a copy of Inferno to read on the way, so after a bit of rummaging, I fished it out of my left-side duffel bag and cracked it open. To my relief, it was one of the rhyming translations, and it was beautifully illustrated. Best thing EVER!

I was deep into the sixth circle of Hell when my row started boarding. With a quiet sigh of regret, I packed my book away again and pulled my boarding pass out of my stocking, presenting it with a glower. The ticket-checker was unruffled. She'd probably seen much scarier people than me before. I pursed my lips in disappointment as I boarded the plane.

Flying was, as always, a lot of fun. I forgot my displeasure over my interrupted reading as soon as the plane took off, staring out the window like a fascinated child. I loved the feeling of being so high above everyone else, like a majestic, soaring griffon, surveying the lowlifes below. Papa would be picking me up from the Port Diavolo airport and from there it'd be about an hour's drive to Chopsticks.

Naturally, Papa was thrilled that I'd be coming to stay with him. He'd taken care of my high school registration and was even getting me a car of my own! I don't really like cars- I'm afraid of crossing in front of them and I prefer running to driving- but not every seventeen-year-old gets her very own car, since they're expensive to buy and maintain, and a lot of teenagers are irresponsible, but that expense is exactly why I couldn't complain.

Unlike chatterbox me, Papa had always been fairly reticent. Inevitably, there would be awkward silences when he didn't respond to something I said, but I could deal with it. I wasn't as carefree as Mama, who could fill hours with her easy, bubbly chatter, but I wasn't so paranoid as to think he disapproved of my talkativeness.

When I landed in Port Diavolo, it was sprinkling a little bit. I welcomed the rain with a smile of the same sort I'd given Mama, after checking to make sure no-one was looking at me, of course. I may not have had a reputation to uphold just yet, but there was no sense in ruining a good thing before it started. I'd barked a hearty BITE ME! to the sun before I'd left Arizona, to the shock and dismay of neighbors who had never quite gotten used to me.

Papa was a police officer, the chief, to be exact, and he'd chosen to meet me in his cruiser. I'll admit, sometimes I was embarrassed to have a lawman as a parent, but even I couldn't deny that being the police chief's daughter had its perks, even if the drawback was that I couldn't get caught doing anything illegal. My rap sheet was sure to have a big old gap in it as a result of this new living situation, but I was more than willing to prove myself to any adversary once I got my own place.

We shook hands heartily as I came off the plane, exchanging hellos and good-to-see-yous. I relayed Mama's greetings, as I'd promised, and we stuffed my duffel bags into the cruiser's trunk next to a few bags of groceries and on top of a charming little toolbox. Papa collected tools. His passions lay in dissembly, reassembly, and manual upgrades. "Why pay someone to fix something when you can do it yourself?" was practically his motto.

"I found a good car for you," he said once we were settled in the car and had started on our way. "It's at a good price, too."

"Of course," I said, expecting nothing less from my frugal, practical father. I trusted him to find a car that would suit even autophobic me. "What's it like?"

"It's an '87 all-terrain Nissan Pathfinder, with a skull and crossbones painted on the hood and wolves howling at the moon painted on the doors. The gas mileage will get better after we've worked on it for a day or two, the tires and radio are new, and I've taken out the back seats to make room for dinner." He was referring to my love of hunting and eating fresh meat. All in all, that sounded amazing! I didn't know much about cars, but I knew that older cars were fairly sturdy when properly maintained and that this one wouldn't go too fast for my liking, while still outrunning most traffic if I maneuvred it just right.

"Thank you, Papa!" I could not contain my exultation. "Where did you find such a diamond?"

"Remember our old friend Uncle Many Goats?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, his family always invited us camping in the summer! Are they still living on that reservation, what's it called, Foote?"

"That's right," Papa said, seeming pleased that I remembered. "He's sold us his new truck. He said it would be a good project for us to work on as a family."

I was touched that Uncle had thought of us. Papa loved fixer-uppers, and he loved the idea of me being useful and independent just as much. We'd practically torn down his house and rebuilt it one winter, a project I was not likely to soon forget.

"When you say he sold us his truck," I began, wondering how many weeks my allowance would be diminished to make up my half of the cost.

"I should have said that he sold me the truck, and I'm giving it to you, provided that you do your share of the upkeep."

Wow. This was so unlike him. I decided to confirm, just in case. "So, if I work hard on restoring the car, I'll get a full allowance?"

Papa nodded decisively. "Yes. That is, until you find a job or turn eighteen. Then it'll be your responsibility to provide for yourself."

My allowance was $50 a week. There was no way I could match that with a part-time job, but the idea was that I was supposed to save more-or-less half for emergencies. My parents had always agreed on this. They wanted me to be responsible with money so that I would always have my choice of lifestyles and living quarters. It was a kind thought, but I was always impulsive. I would never quite be the type to live paycheck to paycheck, but I didn't always save all the money I was supposed to.

I nodded my thanks and gazed out the window at the strange, lush greenery. I was so accustomed to desert life that this new biome seemed almost alien to me. Papa drove at a reasonable speed, of course, allowing me to take in the beauty of Chopsticks without getting carsick. We were home before sundown, back to that adorable cottage I'd helped him rebuild when I was 13. He'd bought it after the divorce for a fresh beginning. There was a large rectangular patch of dirt, in stark contrast to the grass growing greenly on the rest of the property, that served as a parking spot for my new car.

I flung off my seatbelt and sprung out of the cruiser as soon as Papa had pulled it to a full stop, and I bounced over to my car and ran my fingers over the dull grey body, admiring the promised white skull and crossbones on the hood, stroking the so-detailed-I-expected-them-to-be-soft-and-furry ears of the howling wolves, painted in black on the doors. The car felt reassuringly solid under my touch, like it wouldn't be easily damaged even if I carelessly crashed it. I couldn't wait to drive it to school on Monday!

"I'm glad you like your new car," Papa chuckled, breaking the trance I hadn't realized I'd slipped into.

"It's wonderful. Thank you," I said, trying to contain my excitement.

"You're welcome. Now, come get your things from the trunk and help take the groceries in."

I did so gladly, shouldering my duffel bags and two grocery bags in each hand, leaving Papa to get his new toolbox and the milk. After we'd put the perishables in the fridge, I bounded up the stairs to my attic, noting with delight that the top two stairs still creaked to alert me of any intruders into my private space. The wooden floor was mostly covered by a rug Mama had crocheted. The afghans her coven had knit for the winter solstice of my birth were pinned to the unpainted walls and gave the room a nice homey feel. Airy scarves that had been sewn together functioned as curtains, letting in the pale sunlight. There was no bed, as I preferred to sleep on a pile of memory foam toppers, blankets, and pillows. I was sure my nest fixings would be in the linen closet, where I'd always put them before leaving for Phoenix. Against the wall adjacent to the closet I'd built were four foldaway trays in case I needed a firm surface for a project. My wooden, red-painted chair was in my closet, as I saw when I tossed my duffel bags in. Thankfully, I'd remembered to wrap my laptop in bubble wrap and stuff it in a padded bag before packing it in one of my duffels, so it wouldn't be damaged by my careless ways. I'd only have to share a bathroom with one person now, which was a nice change from sharing it with Mama and whoever she felt like inviting over any given day or night.

It didn't take me very long to unpack. I had about seven outfits, underpants and socks included, and I folded my clothes over the large plastic hangers in my closet. Socks, underpants, and womanly products went in a box in the corner. My computer went on an unfolded table far away from the window and next to where my nest would be. I'd set up my altar to Cerberus later, I decided, fishing out Inferno again and sitting against a wall to read until dinnertime. Papa never minded that I wasn't very social.

Dinner consisted of lamb pot pie- my favorite!- sweet potatoes, buttered squash, and a jug of freshly-squeezed orange juice. Papa had really gone all-out for me! I'd always had a big appetite, but pot pie AND a plate full of my favorite vegetables was almost more than I could eat in one sitting. I showed my appreciation by eating more slowly than usual and savoring this meal while we talked about what I could expect from my new school.

Chopsticks High had a comparatively tiny population, just like Chopsticks itself. It was like a bite-sized school in a bite-sized city. It was a pretty tightly-knit community, and they probably wouldn't accept me right away, but then, I'd never had any problem with being an oddity. In one of her rare serious moments, Mama had taken me aside and told me not to make a spectacle of myself, for Papa's sake if not for my own. There was no need to growl everything out at top volume or talk openly about sacrificing people I didn't like to Cerberus, she said. It wasn't like her to be a killjoy, so I was forced to conclude that she really was saying this for my own good.

The academics would be about what I expected, and there was no danger of me falling behind since I'd be starting in the beginning of the semester and was accustomed to earning top marks in all of my classes, except English. For some reason, my interpretations of literature never matched up with the teachers'.

Obviously, I'd be the new girl from exotic Arizona. I stood out everywhere I went because of my dark red hair and muscular body, which I kept in top condition at all times. I was about as tan as anyone who had never lived anywhere as hot as Phoenix would expect, since I'd made it my habit to go running outside every day for an hour and swimming for another. I didn't see the point in shaving any part of my body, which would be pointless even if I was into looking traditionally feminine because I liked sweaters, stockings, and thigh-high boots when I wasn't exercising, so it's not like anyone would ever be able to tell what I did or didn't shave. Not that it was anyone's business, anyway. I was proud of my tanned, wiry, muscular body; the deep blue eyes and healthy, thick, wavy hair I'd inherited from Mama; my short, straight-cut, strong little nails; and even my breasts and curvy hips, which I'd hated when my body had begun maturing because they added what I felt was unnecessary fat to my frame. My body type was curvier and a little thicker than willowy Mama's, and I'd despaired that I couldn't look just like her in face _and_ frame, but since my body didn't function much differently than before, aside from the obvious, I grew to grudgingly respect it, and eventually to like it.

After dinner, I bid Papa goodnight and went upstairs to complete my evening routine. I combed and braided my hair; brushed, flossed, and mouthwashed my teeth; applied lotion and socks to my feet; called Mama to let her know I'd arrived without incident and tell her about my dinner; did my cooldown stretches; and formed my nest and went to bed.

I slept pretty well. Memory foam and warm blankets kept me warm and comfortable, and the rain pattering on the roof was like the song of Heaven to me. I dreamt I was riding Sleipnir into battle with an ancient, elegant sword in my hand-

-but before my troops got past the initial charge, it was morning. A welcoming fog greeted me at the window when I tied back the curtains, putting me in a good mood as I got dressed for school.

Between the two of us, Papa and I had finished all of the wonderful dinner he'd prepared, so the only "leftover" was a cut of lamb leg, stored in the refrigerator because Papa knew me well enough to know that, where baby animal leftovers were concerned, a freezer was never necessary. Not bothering to cook the lamb, I ate it right out of the tin foil after offering a quick thanks to the gods, then went out on my morning run. I had just enough time to circle the property twice before tossing my backpack in the passenger seat of my car and driving off to school.

Papa was right- it really was a fixer-upper! It ran fine, but it made some unpleasant noises and the gearshift wasn't as cooperative as I'd have wanted it to be. Since driving slowly was naturally for me, it would have been impossible to miss Chopsticks High, despite the plain sign and unassuming red-brick design of the campus. It seemed pretty open and free, nestled right in the woods. It took me a little while to find student parking, but I got there without incident and made my way back to the front office, which I'd passed on the way in. My boots clicked pleasantly on the stone path, though high heels on a stone walkway made for slightly unsteady footing.

I opened the door, surprised at the warmth of the building and blinking in the sudden bright light. It was a very cozy office: small, with lots of papers covering the walls, a large clock, potted plants just about everywhere that wasn't a waiting room chair. I took a deep breath, appreciating the presence of so much greenery. I strode up to the only other person I saw there, a plump, bespectacled redhead who looked as though she worked there.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked as I approached.

"Yes, I'm Serleina van Rainsfeld. I'm a new student," I informed her. "I'm here for my class schedule."

Before I'd finished speaking, the woman was digging through an impressively high pile of paperwork. She managed to extract the relevant sheets without the stack collapsing, then came back over and handed them to me. She was very friendly and helpful, showing me on a map which classes were where, wishing me well, and handing me a small stack of slips to be returned at the end of the day signed by my teachers.

I put the papers in my binder to protect them from the rain and made my way back to my car to grab my backpack. I noticed that most of the other cars were old and sturdy like mine, though mine was the only one with those beautiful designs painted on it. There was a much newer, silver car in the lot, which, while it wouldn't have been out-of-place at, say, a car dealership, or even on the road, it seemed obnoxiously ostentatious in this humble student parking lot, for some reason. I equipped my backpack with stylish alacrity, keeping the binder out in case I needed to consult the map. I was probably the only student not wearing some form of jacket or raincoat, but I'd never minded being a little wet, and I was still warm from my morning run.

It was pretty easy to find my way around once I knew what to look for, and I managed not to be late to class. I hung back toward the end of the line, patiently waiting for everyone to hang up their outerwear, and noticed that most of the other students were paler than me. That made sense, since it didn't seem like Chopsticks got much sun. Once I was inside the classroom, I took my slip up to the teacher, a tall man named Mr. Mason, according to the nameplate on his desk. He seemed to spend a few seconds puzzling over my name, so I just stared at him until he gave me a reading list and directed me to an empty seat toward the back of the class.

Oh, goody, this was English class, I thought sarcastically. I scanned the list for mentions of Dante, de Sade, Poe, Lovecraft, or even Joseph Campbell, but the closest I saw was Shakespeare. Well, maybe I'd have some fun, I thought, if we studied Othello. That had always been my favorite Shakespeare play. It could be worse, I decided. At least we weren't reading Homer. I had no patience for pathological liars or anyone who was more of a showoff than I was, and Odysseus was both.

I kept my promise to Mama not to make a spectacle of myself, to make a good first impression by making as little of an impression as possible, and class went by without incident. I relaxed a little, realizing that my creative differences would only come into play during reviews, essays, and suchlike. Class was over sooner than I expected, and when the bell rang, a tall, pimply, black-haired boy leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

"How do you say your name?" He asked a common question with an eager expression.

"Ser-LEI-na," I said slowly. I must have said it too loudly, because at least half the class turned to stare.

"You're welcome," I said graciously, figuring that I'd just saved the rest of them the trouble of asking how to say my name. The boy who'd spoken to me asked where my next class was, and I had to check my binder for the answer.

"Political science, apparently. It should be easy to find. By the way, you should tell me your name. I wasn't paying attention in roll call," I said, standing and walking out with the rest of the class.

"It's Eric," the boy replied, scurrying to walk next to me. "So what's it like being here after Phoenix?" he asked.

I thought a moment before answering. "It's a lot greener, for one. Cloudier and cooler. We have monsoons in Arizona, so it's not like it never rains there, but I just feel so much closer to nature here." We talked on like this, comparing experiences, until we got to my next class. Eric had been nice enough to walk me to the door, even though his class was a couple of buildings away. He wished me luck and noted that we might have other classes together, in a hopeful sort of tone, and I nodded in acknowledgement and went into class.

To my disappointment, political science was only about American politics. I'd been hoping we could study some Tepes or Machiavelli or Tzu Hsi, but I remembered that I could always drive to the nearest library and check out some books for pleasure reading if I wanted to study anything that wasn't part of the curriculum, as long as I got all my schoolwork and chores done first. The teacher was young, bubbly, and came off as a bit of an idiot, so I tried to tune out anything that wasn't lesson-relevant.

At some point, I had trigonometry, and the teacher, Mr. Varner, was into "Introduce the New Kid". I resisted the temptation to say something ridiculous for shock value and merely stated obvious things like my name, where I was from, and that yes, this was my natural hair color. I got a few chuckles from that one, mostly from people who had been in my other classes and knew me by sight already. Some of my classmates were more outgoing than others, and they'd introduce themselves and ask the usual "Grill the New Kid" questions about how I liked Chopsticks and did I miss Phoenix, etc. My normal speaking voice is so loud that I was surprised that anyone within earshot had to ask again, but maybe they were just hoping for a different answer. I told everyone more or less the same thing: That Phoenix had been nice, but Chopsticks was nice, too, in a different way. I expressed my appreciation for the cooler weather and love of the rain. A few people made some bad jokes about the weather and my last name (Ha ha, RAINSFELD, very clever), but I shut them up with a deadpan stare.

A petite, curly-haired girl who'd sat next to me in a couple of my classes chose to walk with me to the cafeteria when lunchtime arrived. She was chattier than me, which I don't mind as long as I'm not interrupted, so I let her talk. She immediately invited me to sit with her and her group of friends, whom she introduced, and, even though I was getting a little mentally exhausted from all this socializing, I did my best to be civil and responsive.

Right in the middle of a conversation with my new friends, a group of people who looked even stranger than me caught my eye. They seemed to be willfully segregated from everyone else in the room, looking silent and gloomy, with full, untouched trays of food in front of each person. I made a face. My friend Seira would be appalled at their blatant waste of food. Sadly, my disapproving stare was lost on them as they seemed to be the only kids in school not interested in getting to know the knew kid. I was tempted to saunter up to them, steal their food, and eat it right in front of them... but first, I decided to size them up a bit more.

There were three boys and two girls. One of the boys was large and muscular, which I respected because of my own dedication to physical fitness, with curly dark hair. Another boy was tall and lean, in just as good shape, with blond hair. The third boy showed less muscle and had messy hair that looked like it could be called "honey golden brown" or some other ridiculously elaborate car paint color. He looked younger than the other two, who seemed a bit _mature_ for high-school. One of the girls was tall and slender with a very nice figure that instantly reminded me of sexy, curvy Seira, who managed her weight well despite eating much more and exercising much less than I did. She also had long, blonde, wavy hair, about as long a mine, meaning that it reached the middle of her back. The other girl was very petite and thin, with an attractive, foxlike face and spiky black hair.

These five were all much paler than the rest of the student body, with deeply dark eyes and such extreme under-eye shadows that I wondered if they were on a healthy sleep schedule. They were strangely, alluringly, gorgeous, in a way I can't really describe. They were _different_, somehow, from the generic, airbrushed faces on fashion magazines and in the movies nowadays. They stood out, even more because they didn't eat or talk or even look at each other.

The small, pixie-looking girl strode, with a dancer's gait, to dump her tray of untouched food. I quickly intercepted it, casually plucking the uneaten apple and unopened soda and slipping back to my table. The girl ignored me as she pranced quickly through the back door. I took a bite of the apple while continuing to brazenly stare at the group. "Who are those food-wasting creeps?" I grumbled to the girl next to me, Jessica, I think she was called. She followed my gaze, and then I caught the youngest-looking boy looking at her, and then at me. I was going to initiate a staring contest, but then he looke away. I frowned at him. How disappointing.

Jessica replied, "The boy who was looking at you is Edward Cullen. The big, muscular one is Emmett Cullen. The girl who left was Alice Cullen. The other two, the twins, are named Rosalie and Jasper Hale. They were adopted by Dr. Cullen and his wife," she explained quietly, as if afraid they'd overhear her. The boy she'd indicated as Edward was disgracefully picking at a bagel and either talking to himself or muttering some kind of incantation. His lips were moving, but just barely. I frowned at him again, resisting the urge to stick out my tongue like a child. I privately felt that, pretty as they were, they weren't pretty enough to get away with wasting Mother Earth's resources, even if school food WAS processed as all purgatory.

"So, are they seeing anyone?" I asked, half joking, half hoping to find an acceptable sacrifice to Cerberus. Jessica informed me that Emmett and Rosalie were a couple, as were Jasper and Alice. Most couples lived together after high school, I thought with mild amusement, but I didn't respond to her scandalized tone of voice. She didn't seem overly fond of the Cullens, kids or parents, not that I blamed her. They STILL hadn't eaten any of their food! Why even bother paying for a school lunch if they wouldn't eat?

"I've spent most of my school vacations here, and I've never seen them," I said. "How long have they lived here?"

"About two years," Jessica exposited. "They're from somewhere in Alaska."

Two years and they still sat alone and picked at their food? Weird people. They didn't seem like they were making any effort to make friends. The people here were friendly enough; the Cullen-Hale-whatevers should have been accepted easily. As I was casually judging them, the youngest boy, Edward, looked at me curiously. I rolled my eyes at him and pointedly took another bite of my apple. Something about his gaze felt anticipatory, as though he expected something of me. That was his problem, I decided, shrugging it off.

"Don't waste your time with Edward," Jessica cautioned me, apparently misreading my exasperated expression. "He doesn't date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him." She gave a little sniff, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I assured her. "Manorexic isn't my type, and I'd think you can do better, too."

She gawked at me like I was crazy. "Are you kidding?" she demanded. "He's _gorgeous!_"

I glanced back at Edward, who seemed to be smirking. "He's a self-satisfied creep who'd rather pick at a perfectly good bagel than eat it," I replied, munching gracelessly on Alice's apple and washing it down with Alice's soda.

Jessica looked surprised at my assessment, as though no-one else here had ever expressed a negative opinion of the Cullens, as though she'd never considered that someone could not want anything to do with them. I found that a little strange, considering that they didn't seem to have any friends at the school, but then, maybe they were just highly asocial and hadn't bothered to make friends, or had rejected any and all attempts to befriend them. I thought back to how Alice had just scampered off without looking at me after I'd taken her food, and that seemed a likely possibility.

Lunch was over pretty soon, and one of my new friends, Angela, walked with me to biology, a class we shared. We didn't talk much- she seemed happy being quiet and I was content to just enjoy her company. As soon as we got into the classroom, she went to sit with someone whom I assumed was her lab partner. Everyone was already paired up except the rude smirking boy, Edward. Goody, I got to spend biology sitting next to a food-wasting, smirking, self-satisfied jerk. He'd better not be an idiot, I thought, scowling over at him. I cleared my expression into a pleasant, neutral blankness as I passed his seat to get my slip signed by the teacher, and pretended to ignore that Edward was glaring at me. As I handed over my slip, I turned and met his eyes with a vicious, devious smirk on my face.

"Let's dance, babe," I mouthed, staring directly into his black eyes.

The teacher, Mr. Banner, handed my now-signed slip back to me. I didn't need to be told where to go, since there was only one available seat. When I sat down, I noticed Edward leaning away from me and making a face. Well, that wasn't very mature of him, I thought, smirking at him with narrowed eyes.

I turned my attention back to Mr. Banner when he started lecturing on cellular anatomy, with which I was already familiar. I paid attention anyway, in case Mr. Banner said something I didn't already know, trying very hard to ignore the childish ball of tension sitting next to me. It was difficult, since he was really clouding the energy in the area. I was surprised no-one else had said anything. When I saw the fist he was making under the table, I could hold my tongue no longer. I grabbed his arm and jerked him close.

"Hey buddy," I whispered, not wanting to make a big fat noisy scene and disrupt the lecture, "if you've got a problem with me, why don't you just say so?"

Edward snapped his head around to glare at me again and jerked his arm out of my grasp. He was stronger than I'd given him credit for, I noted with surprise. He resumed his tense, avoidant, fist-clenching, sulking position and stayed that way throughout class, except now, he was glaring at me in pure revulsion. I stuck my tongue out at him and turned my attention back to Mr. Banner's lecture. Thankfully, he hadn't seemed to notice our little... argument. Man, I couldn't wait to get my hands on some dissection tools and see how Eddie-boy liked having his pretty white arm sliced open. I bet he'd relax his body then, at the very least, to keep from bleeding out.

Before I could dwell on that plan for long, the bell rang, and Eddie-boy sprang out of his seat and made a beeline for the door. Wow, really? I rolled my eyes and packed my binder in my backpack and made ready to stand, when another classmate came up to me. He was a round-faced boy with spiky blond hair and a friendly smile.

"You're Serleina van Rainsfeld, right?" he asked.

"That's right," I said, recognizing him vaguely from another class, maybe English. "And you are?"

"Mike," he replied. "Do you need any help finding your next class?"

"I've got a map," I said, slinging on my backpack. "My next class is gym, though. I'm looking forward to it."

"That's my next class, too," he said happily. This cheerful boy was refeshing after a whole class period of pointlessly-hostile Edward.

"Let's walk together, then," I said, feeling the need to clear my head from the murderous thoughts that had been creeping up against the obnoxious, childish creature that had sat next to me.

As we walked and talked, I learned that Mike was from California. I knew a few people in the state, mostly in the Bay Area, but a couple down in Hollywood, too. He spoke fondly of the sun, but I kept quiet on that point. Sunlight was not my favorite thing.

"So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen him act like that," Mike asked randomly as we neared the gym. I couldn't help laughing.

"I wish I could stab him with a scalpel!" I said. "Is he always that pointlessly rude?"

Mike looked a little disturbed, but he answered, "...He's a weird guy, I guess. If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you."

"Not during the lecture, I hope," I replied, "but yeah, it was fun chatting on the way here. I'd better go get changed. Talk later." And I jogged off to get my gym uniform and get changed. I learned from Coach Carr that P.E. was mandatory all four years of high school here. Good, I thought, it's important for young people to stay fit. I got changed quickly and imposed myself in a few volleyball games, switching groups every ten minutes and getting to know my classmates till the bell rang.

I changed back into my street clothes, folding the gym uniform and putting it neatly in my locker, amd then jogged to the front office to return the slips. The strong wind tousled my hair and I laughed, feeling free as I started at a run. All too soon, I was at the front office. I took a moment to catch my breath and then sauntered in.

Hades damn it, I cursed to myself, scowling as I saw Edward standing at the desk and arguing with the receptionist. Though their voices were low, my hearing had always been exceptional and I picked up exactly what they were saying. He was trying to get into a different biology class! Of all the childish, idiotic-!

I heard a soft growling and it took me a moment to realize that it was coming from me. Oops. I bit my lip to remind myself to keep quiet as I waited, somewhat less than patiently, for this argument to end. Some girl came in at some point and dropped a note in the wire basket on the receptionist's desk, and for some reason, this caused Eddie-boy to stiffen and turn to glare at me with venomous eyes. I gave him that same narrow-eyed smirk I'd given him before, and he turned back to the receptionist and withdrew his demand with a perfunctory thanks. As he brushed past me to get out the door, I was sorely tempted to trip him, but I knew I'd have much more fun with him if I kept my temper for now and just toyed with him in the fifty minutes of class we had together each week.

Rolling my eyes again, I strode up to the desk and deposited the slips in the receptionist's hand. She asked how my day had been.

"It was alright, except for this really rude boy in my sixth-period bio class," I said, grimacing slightly. "Otherwise, everyone has been pretty welcoming." The receptionist smiled and we bade each other good day before I left.

My Pathfinder was one of the last cars in the lot. I actually felt the urge to run home, but it wouldn't do to leave the car Papa had so generously bought for me in the school lot, so I drove it home more-or-less cheerfully, trying not to be too aggravated. After all, when I got home, I'd get to work on the car with Papa and rant at him about my day.


	3. Chapter 2

2\. THIS IS THE SECOND CHAPTER (OF AN ALREADY RIDICULOUSLY-LONG NARRATIVE)

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologise for the poor pacing. I'm rewriting Twilight paragraph by paragraph and there's only so much my tunnel vision can do with what I've been given. I'd also like to note that I don't know much about cars and am choosing to laze out rather than ask my father how long it would take to put a running-but-could-use-some-work Pathfinder in perfect order. Feel free to make suggestions and I'll try to work them into later chapters. Also, please keep in mind that this is a first draft and I will probably be editing the whole thing once it's done for cohesion and flow, as well as fixing errors that y'all point out to me.**

The next day was also pretty good, all things considered. I'd slept well, the howling wind acting as a lullaby. I woke up in time to run around the property once and pack myself a lunch, though I felt sure I'd be lifting food from the Cullens' trays at some point. Papa and I had worked on my car last night, so it made fewer noises and would thus need less fixing tonight.

I was keeping up well in my classes and not letting myself slack off just because I knew everything so far- I also knew very well how badly arrogance can cause a person's downfall! I had a couple of groups of friends to hang out with between classes, and we all hung out at lunch. I noticed that the Cullen brat wasn't there that day, but the other four kids in their family were. I intercepted each of their uneaten lunches and, as predicted, ended up not needing my own. My friends gave me some odd looks, but I simply explained that I don't like wasting food or other resources when people elsewhere in the world may not have access to them. I didn't see the point in chastising the Cullens about it as long as I got free food, either, I added with a little half-smile. I looked around for hungry kids to give the lunch I'd packed, but didn't see anyone who looked uncomfortable or who was staring longingly at anyone else's food, so I decided I'd just have to put it in the fridge when I got home and maybe have it for dinner.

When lunch was over, Mike and I walked to biology together. He talked about an upcoming trip to the beach, and I immediately perked up. Wait till my friends back home heard about that! I took my seat at my table, pleased that Eddie-boy wasn't there to cringe and act weird about me sitting next to him. Seriously, what was his problem? Did he think girls had cooties or something?

Mike and I chatted some more till the beginning-of-class bell rang, and then he went to sit with his lab partner, a curly-haired girl with braces whose name I didn't yet know. Because Edward wasn't there, it was much easier for me to concentrate on the lecture and taking notes, and I found myself hoping that he'd dropped the class. If the lab work we'd be doing later this semester required two or more people, maybe I could team up with Mike and his partner.

During volleyball, I did the same as I'd done yesterday: Switched teams every ten minutes to get to know my classmates' playing styles and personalities. I'd always felt it was essential to get to know one's teammates in order to function better as a team. Keeping my promise to Mama not to make a spectacle of myself turned out to be surprisingly easy, as everyone here was so welcoming and accepted me immediately. I didn't feel like an oddball at all, and since they didn't see me as "different", I didn't see the need to prove how "different" I could be. I hoped that, when it came time to pick teams, my classmates would see me as a potential asset to their team. It would be a nice change from being the odd girl out.

When school was out, I went out to the parking lot to take my Pathfinder home. I was getting more comfortable with the idea of driving it, and I was sure I'd be even more comfortable tomorrow, after Papa and I had done more maintenance on it. There wasn't much else to do, though Papa had hinted that it would be a good idea to stop at an auto shop on the way home to pick up new spark plugs.

When I got to the parking lot, there was a line of cars waiting to exit the parking lot, and I wasn't secure enough in my driving skill to risk backing into one of them, so I merely stood by and waited. I noticed that the shiny silver car belonged to the Cullens, as they were getting into it. Of course, I thought. Who else at this school would be so intent on standing out? I didn't know much about clothes, but even the way they dressed seemed to scream, "I'm fancier than you!" They gave my car and me some odd looks as they sped out of the parking lot, and I pretended to light an imaginary cigarette in response. No wonder these stuck-up jerks were such outcasts.

Once everyone else had left and there was no longer a line to get out of the school, I got into my car and drove it to the general store, got my spark plugs, and drove home. I didn't have much homework, so I finished it all before Papa got home, remembered to put my uneaten lunch in the fridge, ran around the lot once, and had some extra time to call Mama and tell her about my day.

"Hi, sweetie!" she crowed cheerfully as she picked up the phone. I could hear the usual sounds of revelry going on in the background. "Hold on, let me get someplace quiet..." The music and chatter faded, and Mama continued, "How are you? How was your day?"

I smiled fondly. Life sounded the same as ever over there. "It was good," I said. "Sorry I didn't call yesterday, but here's what's been going on." And I told her about my car, how school had been going, my new friends, and the weird snobby kids. "But don't worry, I haven't been standing out, just like I promised you," I said, at the end of my rant about Eddie-boy and his rudeness.

"That's good," said Mama, sounding relieved. "I wouldn't entirely blame you if you had, though. Those Cullens sound like real pieces of work."

"They're real pieces of something," I agreed, "but you were right. I shouldn't make things difficult for Papa or risk compromising his authority by making people think he can't keep his wild-child kid in order, right? Anyway, how have things been for you?"

"They've been great, as always!" I could hear the smile in her voice. "I've been thinking of taking a trip to Hawai'i, but I'd have to find my swimsuit first." She laughed; it was common knowledge that she was always lending out clothes or leaving clean laundry piled up in drawers instead of sorting it. Her not being able to find a particular outfit or piece of clothing had become a running gag among her circle of friends.

We chatted a bit more before I heard Papa's cruiser pull up, and then I bade Mama goodbye and raced down the stairs to greet Papa and show him the new spark plugs. We worked on the car until dinnertime.

"Oh, Papa, by the way, remember yesterday I told you about the Cullens not eating any of their lunch? Well, I ate it instead and... I'd packed a lunch, but I ended up not needing it. Do you mind if I have that for dinner?"

Papa seemed only mildly surprised. "Of course you can," he said. "I'm glad you said that, because to tell you the truth, I wasn't really feeling up to cooking tonight."

"Long day?" I asked sympathetically.

"Not any longer than usual, but maybe it's just my age catching up to me."

"Now, Papa," I teased, "that would imply that you're old, which we both know you're not." That earned a chuckle and a head-shake, and then Papa changed the subject as he went into the kitchen and made himself a sandwich.

"How are you getting along with kids at school?"

"You mean aside from Eddie-boy? He actually wasn't there today, so I had a much better time today than yesterday. His siblings were there, though, and I couldn't help but notice that everything about them- their clothes, their car, just the general way they act- screams 'I'm better than you, so don't try to talk to me'. It's really grating. Anyway, the other kids are pretty nice. I've made friends with Jessica, Angela, Mike..." I named as many people as I could remember, and Papa seemed to know them, too.

"Mike's father owns the sporting goods store just outside of town, and he makes a good living off all the backpackers who come through here," he informed me. "Angela's mother manages the restaurant down the street and her father works in the public library. Jessica's mother is the news anchor for channel 5. They're all pretty nice people."

"What do you think of the Cullens?" I asked, noticing that he hadn't mentioned them.

"Dr. Cullen's a surgeon and I hear he's pretty good. I always thought his kids were pretty well-behaved and polite. At least, I never had any reports of them causing trouble. Their family goes camping every other weekend. I did wonder why they didn't seem very social, though I've heard that the nurses at the hospital have a hard time concentrating on their work with Dr. Cullen around."

"That's not very professional of them," I said, making a face. "They do realize that they've got a socially-important job that requires them to pay attention to what they're doing and not ogle the hot doctor, right?" I dug into the stir fry with rice that had almost been my lunch, not bothering to heat it up, fuming slightly. My faith in humanity slipped steadily enough as it was without idiots like that helping it along. Papa didn't respond, probably not wanting to add to my aggravation, and we finished dinner in silence.

After doing the dishes, I went back upstairs to check Facebook. I tagged Seira in a post about the food-wasting brats and we bounced rants off each other for a few minutes. Penryn and her sister, Evryn, helped me come up with creative imaginary scenarios in which to torture "the rude biology boy", as they knew him.

"I'd offer Averna his fingers," I wrote, referring to my best friend back home, "but I think that would be an insult to her standards."

I hadn't added any of my new school friends yet, so it was still safe to bash on the Cullens, as long as the posts remained friends-only.

I posted publicly- well, to friends-of-friends, since I was still 17-about how easy everyone else was to get along with, how much fun gym class was, and how the cafeteria food was surprisingly better than I'd expected. Averna Liked my comment about Eddie-boy's fingers being below her standards, and I logged off to finish reading Inferno before bed.

The rest of the week was much like the second day: I hung out with my friends, got to know more people in school, stole the Cullens' food (except Edward's, since he wasn't there), enjoyed having a lab table all to myself, and let out my daily frustrations about the food-wasters in gym. My classmates were still getting used to my aggressive style, but I did try not to hurt anyone.

On Friday, at lunch, Mike invited me to the beach trip he was putting together. It would be in two weeks, and everyone had been talking about it. I told him that of course he could count me in, and thought about exactly how I would rub it in my boyfriend's annoying sea-loving niece's face.

Friday night was an interesting night on Facebook. The niece, Sigyn, was being annoyingly secretive about SOMETHING, as always, the same SOMETHING she'd been annoyingly secretive about for a couple of years now. It probably had something to do with a guy, and why Tokiomi didn't put a stop to it, as he was her uncle and legal guardian, I didn't know. I was tempted to comment with, "If you don't want to tell us what's going on, then don't bother making stupid vague posts about it", but I didn't want to risk putting Tokiomi in the middle of yet another one of our arguments. Sigyn didn't approve of me dating her uncle because I'm "evil" or something and he's a bad judge of character. Considering that I was pretty sure she had, at one point, been dating the biggest jerk in our old school, she really didn't have room to talk.

After I signed off, I went through my evening beauty routine and went to bed. I dreamed about lying in an open meadow, breathing in the sweet scent of the tall grass, and looking up at the clouds. There was probably a meadow like that somewhere just outside the forest, I thought vaguely to myself when I woke up, smiling to myself. It wasn't yet morning, so I turned on the ceiling light and went to rummage through my duffel bags for my yarn. I'd been working on making some nice new placemats for Papa to thank him for taking me in, and now seemed like a good time to continue.

Crocheting was what I did that Saturday: I finished four olive-green placemats, ten matching coasters, and started a deep red welcome mat. I took breaks to eat and go running when I got restless, but by dinnertime, my fingers were sore from all the yarn work, and I had to find something different to do on Sunday. I asked Papa for ideas, and he suggested replacing the muffler, but that still only took a few hours and I was restless afterwards. I knew I couldn't depend on Papa to entertain me, and he needed some time to himself. It took me a while to realize that it would be fine to call some of my new friends and ask them to hang out.

By 1:00 in the afternoon, Mike, Angela, Jessica, Mike's lab partner, and I met at the bowling alley a few blocks away from the school. Bowling definitely wasn't one of my strengths, and the staff had refused to put up the bumpers since we were over ten years old, but it was fun anyway. Mike, being the other athlete among us, was pretty good. Angela's skill at rolling strikes surprised me, especially since, when it wasn't her turn, she spent more time doing homework than paying attention to the game. She must be a natural, I thought, and I admired her commitment to her studies. Jessica was about as bad as I was, and I think she was relieved that she wasn't the worst player there. We didn't take it too seriously- I managed to tamp down my competitive nature just this once. Mike's lab partner, whose name I learned was Shelley, wasn't interested in the game at all and just sat by eating lollipops and chatting up whoever wasn't playing at the moment. Between her and Jessica, it was hard for the rest of us to get a word in edgewise, but I didn't mind. It felt good not to be the biggest loudmouth in the room, for once.

I learned that Shelley, like my mother and me, enjoyed crocheting. She reached into her oversized pink purse and pulled out a fluffy, tutu-like skirt she'd crocheted. I recognized it as a sort of homemade costume petticoat, and examined the ruffles admiringly.

"I would have worn this today, but Mom and I had church, and she won't let me dress ostentatiously for it," Shelley explained bashfully. "I wanted to show you, though. Mom knows from Chief van Rainsfeld that a passion for yarn projects runs in the family."

I was touched. Papa talked about us? I'd always taken him for the type to keep to himself.

"What does your mom do?" I asked while Shelley was taking a drink, wondering how well Mrs. Meerly and Papa knew each other.

"She's a judge," Shelley answered, looking surprised that I hadn't known that. I thought for a moment. Judge Meerly. No, I hadn't heard of her before.

"Must be tough to negotiate your allowance," I joked. Shelley half-smiled.

"No one negotiates with Judge Meerly," she said. "She's strict, but fair, you know, I'd hate to have grown up as a self-absorbed brat who takes everyone for granted and expects everything to be handed to her on a silver platter."

I nodded knowingly. "I'm familiar with the type."

"Serleina, are you going to play your turn, or what?" Jessica asked, thrusting a large orange bowling ball into my arms.

"Oh! You're right, sorry about that." I'd completely lost track of the game during Shelley's and my conversation, but then, that tended to happen when I started talking.

By the time the bowling alley closed, Mike, Jessica, Angela, and I had consumed three large pizzas, two family-sized orders of nachos, and a liter of soda apiece. Shelley had ordered lots of Pellegrino and a baked potato, and she'd also had at least ten lollipops. I wondered how her body handled all that sugar and aspartame. When we parted ways well after sunset, we were all well-fed and happy.

Since I hadn't taken the car, I could run off our late lunch in the light rain and make room for dinner with Papa, who would have had his fill of alone time after a day out fishing. I licked my lips in anticipation and started to run. By the time Papa would have gone upstairs to call me down for dinner, I jogged up the porch, panting slightly, dampened and hungry. He hadn't locked the door when he'd come home, so I didn't need my keys, and I opened the door, wiped my feet, and stepped inside. Papa looked up from cutting up the fish for dinner, a look of surprise on his face.

"There you are," he said. "I thought you were upstairs."

I shook my head. "No, I went out to the bowling alley with my friends while you were fishing. Should I have left a note?"

"Well... next time, you should call if you'll be back after sunset. That's usually when I start planning dinner."

"Sorry about that. I will next time," I promised. "I'm going to go take a shower." And I raced upstairs without waiting for a response.

The cold rainwater had been exhilarating; the hot shower water was soothing. I reflected about my day while I was washing myself. It had been a good day—in fact, this had been quite a good week! Somehow, it seemed much more relaxing here than it was in Arizona. I guessed having a quieter household had something to do with it. I loved Mama, but her constant partying could get a bit overwhelming for me. Here, it was easy to be calm and relaxed, at least, so far. I wondered if I should tell Papa about Edward missing a whole week of school—after all, truancy would be of interest to a police officer—but then, I didn't really want him to come back to school. I was having such a good time without him acting like I had cooties and contributing to his family's wastage of food. What was up with that? Why even buy the food—but now, I was starting to get stressed out again. I rinsed myself off, ran my hands through my hair to make sure all the shampoo was out, then turned off the water, wrapped myself in a towel, stepped out, and shook myself off. After getting dressed, I bounded back downstairs to have dinner.

"Has Edward Cullen been back in school?" Papa asked the very question I'd been hoping to avoid. "You haven't mentioned him."

"… No," I said reluctantly. "I like it better that way, but I suppose you do have to do your job, and he has been truant, so."

Papa thought for a moment. "You know, it's odd that I haven't heard about this before now. At the very least, I should have heard about the case being referred to the Truancy Board."

I shrugged. I didn't particularly care one way or the other. Well, that wasn't true. If I'd had my way, Edward would be expelled and have to go to school at another district, and I would never see him again. I didn't quite understand why I hated the kid so much, I mean, I'd only interacted with him for a few hours, at most. I wasn't too fond of the other ostentatious, food-wasting brats in his family, either. Maybe it was just because he'd specifically insulted _me_ that day in biology. What was his problem? It wasn't like I'd been writing on his arm or anything.

I stopped that train of thought before I could start fuming in earnest, and started actually eating my food. I'd put sweet pickle relish on the fish to improve the flavor, and I found it delicious. I didn't really know or care what kind of fish this was—as long as it could be improved with sweet relish, I'd eat it and be happy that Papa put food on the table.

After dinner, I scampered back up to my room, got my iPod, and went back downstairs to do the dishes and sing off-key. I could sing very well when I wanted to, but I preferred to imitate the gentlemen of heavy metal. Papa didn't tell me to shut it, so I assumed it was okay. Anyway, the dishes got done, and then what was left of my homework got done, and then I went to bed.


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE: BREAKDOWN**

**A/N: There's a jump cut in here since I'd initially written several chapters and several ideas for several more chapters. I'm still trying to figure out how to integrate everything, so bear with me. If you have any ideas for how to improve the pacing or general time structure, please let me know.**

**I figured it would be IC for Esme to be like, "don't be silly, dear, ladies don't fix cars" and that's why Rosalie has never tried to do it for a living. Also, since Rose is a vampire and they don't sleep, she could have her shop open at hours when the other mechanic(s) are closed.**

**I understand that this is a much shorter chapter than what I've been posting, and I apologise for that. If anyone has ideas on what to do next, for the months of October – December, please feel free to let me know! Thank you! Fact-checkers for how car repair actually works are also more than welcome.**

During the next week, I realized that Chopsticks High was so much different from my old school. I wasn't being pushed to socialize here, and, oddly, that made me want to hang out with my friends more. Similarly, not being pushed into neurotypical behavior every minute of every day calmed my rebellious side. No one was watching me like a hawk, ready to call me out in front of the class if I said something strange. No one made me copy stupid essays, not a word of which I believed, if I was rude to a classmate or teacher—which I tried not to do, but old habits died a bit hard. One student didn't take kindly to me informing him that his crimson and scarlet outfit clashed with itself. Back at my old school, I would have had to copy an essay and write that kid an apology. Here, he just glared at me and walked away, and the teachers didn't do or say anything, because they were more interested in educating their students than controlling our behavior.

I liked it, very much. It was pretty damn cool! It was kind of weird that the teacher didn't say anything about Dan walking away in the middle of class, though. Maybe he just assumed Dan had to use the restroom or something. Honestly, the teachers here did seem kind of negligent, but maybe it was just because I was used to a stricter, more overbearing environment.

Though I didn't miss the teachers from Twenchin High, I did miss my friends in Arizona. We talked on Facebook quite a lot, but it just wasn't the same. Tokiomi and I had an open relationship, so we both knew we were free to see other people, but neither of us really had that desire. Sigyn and I got along better when we didn't have to see each other every day, but I missed the Averna sisters. The one who didn't insist on going by her last name, Irina, would have had some fun coming up with new imaginary outfits to dress Dan in.

In the first week of October, I checked out as many clubs as possible. The wilderness club caught my attention, as I'd always felt at home in nature. Glee club seemed interesting as well, but they didn't do metal or much opera, and those were the only genres that fit my voice. I was awful at chess, but my classmate Eric offered to help me learn, so I kept chess club as an option.

The last activity I considered was cheerleading, mostly because I was sure my friends back home would get a kick out of it if I made the squad and partly because I wanted to be more like Peyton Sawyer from One Tree Hill, a show my boyfriend, Tokiomi, and I enjoyed. The cheer captain, a lovely blonde girl named Lauren Mallory, and the cheerleading coach, Monica Ruiz, were professionally indifferent about my audition routine. I'd decided to have some fun with it by choosing HIM's Wings of a Butterfly- to be "ironic", as my friend Cin would say. I didn't notice any reaction from Lauren, so I figured that she probably had to deal with "edgy" prospective cheerleaders a lot.

"Thank you. We'll let you know" was all she said. I nodded quickly and left. I knew I wasn't likely to make the squad- they only held auditions this late because a full-time cheerleader and several second-stringers were out with a nasty flu- but hopefully Lauren and Coach Ruiz had found my audition entertaining. Even if they didn't like the song, my dancing had merit.

As I drove home after my audition, I noticed an unfortunate clunking noise coming from my truck. _Must've botched the repairs,_ I thought. Crap. Who was the nearest mechanic? What about that car parts shop? I couldn't remember how to get there. I pulled over to the side of the road to think, putting my blinkers on in case someone who knew cars saw me.

Thankfully, after twenty frustrating minutes of trying to get my cell phone to connect to Google, someone did. She was a tall, pale, curvy blonde, one of the non-eaters I'd noticed in the cafeteria. The girl who reminded me of Seira, I recalled vaguely. Seira would hate that comparison, but I couldn't help it. They had similar figures, even if this girl didn't eat and Seira couldn't /not/ eat.

"What's the car trouble?" the girl asked, getting straight to the point.

"I'm... not entirely sure," I admitted. "Probably something to do with the transmission."

The girl nodded. "I'll take a look, if you'd like," she offered. "Rosalie Hale, by the way."

"Serleina van Rainsfeld. That would be great!" Maybe the non-eaters weren't as bad as I thought.

"It's been a while since I got to do some real work on a car," Rosalie said from under my truck. How had she gotten down there so quickly? "It's a shame, really. Almost everyone in my family has a car of their own, but they hardly let me work on them. They act like we're above modifications and car repairs. It's dreadfully wasteful, but the instant something doesn't work perfectly, they ditch the car in question and buy a new one. I like your truck. It's old, so it must have a lot of history."

"It's new to me," I replied, my head reeling slightly. Her family's habits _did_ sound wasteful, more so than I would have guessed. "Why don't you set up an auto repair shop in town?" Even if there already was one, surely it couldn't hurt even in a small town to have another?

Rosalie laughed, a melodic, tinkling sound. "I'd love to," she said, "but my family wouldn't hear of it. Father doesn't want us drawing attention to ourselves and Mother would consider it unladylike. The only person who'd support such a notion is Emmett."

"Well, there you go!" I exclaimed. "That's one more than nothing, as Mama Ren would say."

Rosalie scooted out from under the truck and gave me a quizzical yet thoughtful look. "One more than nothing," she repeated slowly. "Hmm."

"Yeah, so after high school, you could go to college or trade school and become certified in auto repair. Are you better at auto body or auto tech?"

She blinked at me. "You ask me that /after/ you let me work on your car?" she asked incredulously.

"Doesn't matter, you can take both," I rambled on. "The more credentials you have, the easier it should be to gain business."

"I'm a woman." For some reason, Rosalie felt the need to state the obvious.

"And?" I prompted, wondering if she was trying to make a point.

"Most business would default to a male mechanic, regardless of who has better credentials."

"Maybe at first," I said, "but if you're the better mechanic, I can't see why your gender would stop you from getting the better business. I'd rather have a car that runs well than one that doesn't."

I heard a sigh. Rosalie must have scooted back under my car without me noticing.

"I don't really want to think of it in terms of competition," she explained. "I just want to be able to do what I enjoy."

I nodded, then realized she couldn't see me. "I know what you mean," I said.

After a few more minutes of examination, Rosalie scooted back out, stood, brushed herself off, and went to look under the hood. I let her examine in peace, not offering any opinions and especially not the information that Papa and I had been the ones working on this initially. When she was finished, she concludes that the problem was with the timing belt, not the transmission. She offered to push the car home- to her home- so she could work on it there and let her adoptive brother Edward, the weird guy who stared at me a lot, know to drive me back to my place. I grimaced at that last bit, but accepted the help, on the condition that Edward keep his eyes on the road.


End file.
